THE JOURNEY CONTINUES
Harv and I are moving. Hopefully. Prayerfully. At least our house is up for sale. We’ll see how it goes.
One of the great joys for a young married couple is the purchase of their first house together. As they pour over the listings on the internet, as they walk through home after home - imagining -which of the bedrooms will be the baby’s room - wondering if they will ever have a dining room table large enough to host the family’s Thanksgiving feast - if the fenced in yard will accommodate a future golden retriever puppy - checking on the neighbourhood for schools, parks and churches! All of these ideas swirling around in their heads - like it says in the poem Twas the Night before Christmas - “visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads!”
And so it goes! The young couple have had their lovely wedding….. they rent for a bit and then bite the bullet and buy their first home. They enjoy a period of time of just the two of them and at some point baby #1 arrives and then baby #2 and then sometimes, baby’s #3 and #4 or even more.
My Mom used to say “IF WALLS COULD TALK…….” the walls of the house could tell a thousand stories.
What my walls heard and would tell you today……….
Me - as a young mom - so weary from another sleepless night of walking the floor with my baby - suffering from another bout of croup - whispering soothing words of comfort - singing softly - ‘Jesus loves me, this I know” - pacing and praying that my baby’s breath would return to normal. Please God - heal my baby. My living room walls heard all those cries and prayers and more.
Me - as a young wife - having an argument with Randy - about whatever! I don’t even remember what the arguments were about but realize now - how unimportant they really were - however at the time, I probably didn’t get my own way and angry words were spoken. The walls heard - but those walls also heard “please forgive me” and “I’m sorry”. Our walls heard the sounds of a young couple working through disagreements and also the sweetness of making things right again.
Me - as a young mom - recording the height of the boys on their birthdays on the walls of their bedroom closets - marvelling at their growth as the years marched by - recognizing my tiny sons would grow taller than their mom ‘s height in just ten or twelve years. I used to go into those closets when the boys were at school and trace those marks of growth and entrust their lives and bodies to the Lord - over and over again. How I would rejoice that their growth was just not physical but emotional and spiritual as well. Those bedroom closet walls listened to the prayers of this momma!
Me - never was I more content than setting the dining room table for Thanksgiving dinners - Christmas dinners - birthday celebrations - Easter brunches - because my heart knew the joy and contentment it would feel as my loved ones gathered together to enjoy feast and fellowship. Those walls heard the laughter and chatter - heard the stories of one generation to the next - passing down the same stories year after year. My dining room walls would tell you what the football and hockey scores were - who was dating who - what test or exam was going to be tough and needed more studying - teasing and dad jokes - those dining room walls would say “a happy family lived here!”
Me - an empty nester rambling around in a far too empty house - wishing for the old days and missing the ones who made - dings in the walls, crayon drawings on the walls, holes in the walls, countless changes of paint colour on those walls!
Me - a widow. How those walls heard my grief. My pain! My loss. My loneliness. My shock. The walls heard my prayers. “Lord, help me. Help me get through this morning. Help me get through this night! Help me trust you! Help me live in peace! Help me know a measure of joy! Help me! Help!” Those walls would tell you that God answered each of those cries.
Me - finding love again and married a second time around. Those walls heard our first conversations. They heard each other’s story of loss and loneliness and hope for a future together. Those walls heard proclamations of promise for a second married life together.
And here we are today - Harv and I have talked on and off for the past few years of finding our “forever” home together. Having just celebrated our 8th anniversary already - we agreed that the timing is right.
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What will the walls of our new home hear?
Those walls will hear our prayers each morning when we pray for our grandchildren as they go out the door to their schools. The walls will hear the laughter and conversation around our dining table as we share meals with family and friends. The family room walls will hear the ping pong ball bouncing on the table - off the wall - on the floor - the laughter from the tournaments that Levi organizes regularly. The walls will record our conversations about our aches and pains as we age (hopefully gracefully). On those walls, we’ll hang pictures of our 15 grandchildren and our children.
My prayer for our first home together is this - Let each of you look not only to his or her own interests, but also to the interests of others. Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved - compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness and patience - bearing with one another, forgiving one another just as the Lord has forgiven you.”
“HOME” - by Henry Van Dyke
